Musical meets Cynical
by AWildCrazyAppears
Summary: As per her mothers' suggestion, the negatively centred Clary attends an upcoming performance night at her new school in which she changes her perspective of life upon meeting a dashing blond lead singer. (First TMI FanFic) AU, pretty OOC.
1. The Oncoming Storm

**A/N: Hi there! so, this is my first fanfic ever. Exciting~! Thank you in advance from reading and I would appreciate any from of contrastive criticism so this story can improve. I cannot promised regular updates to due to final year of school and lack of motivation most of the time but enjoy! - C :)**

The first day is always the worst, at least that's what they say to make you feel like that decision was worth it an telling that person the you don't love them didn't mean anything to you. The truth is that everyday becomes new-worst day. Call me a pessimist, or whatever. I think of myself as more of a realist in honest truth.

In order to break this building philosophy I had, my mother suggested that I attended an arts and performance night at my new school so even though the first would be the lovechild of watching paint dry and an extremely slow news day, it could have potential to improve minimally.

The details of why we had moved again were blurred, probably some new job opportunity for my mother and her art knowledge. Moving house and life essentially was second nature to me; there was no questions involved, just cardboard boxes and duct tape in hand. On my university applications under unique or special skills would be the ability to pack up my life within the span of 3 days max, leaving nothing in my wake. The number of best friends I have had in the past 10 years was on the lower end; due to the constant shift of lifestyle and the inability to socialise I seem to have developed over the years. This isn't to say that I was absolute loner; just that my mother and I's religion of the moving truck came first.

My mother, in all seriousness, must have come out of the womb with a paintbrush in hand or something. The difference in artistic talent between my mother and myself was staggering, to say the least. While she could juggle between paints and artworks, I could barely shuffle between pencil grades. She has this misconception that I have an unsung talent but she just being a typical mother, codling their child blindly until one of them breaks. Probably will be a pencil to the throat at this rate.

It wasn't until the end of my shift at work the night before that I recalled that the loom presentation night was beginning to rear its ugly head. Work was a new staple for me when we made this move, especially since it was in a back alley indie music store. The boss was a big, what my last best friend Simon would call, hippie. I'm pretty sure that between paying rent and running the store, a fair deal of cash was funding the nations weed industry exclusively. This meant that when I was rostered to work, the boss was too spaced out to care what music was highlight on the store's sound system, let alone stand up from on top of a mouldy beanbag that smelt of cigarette smoke. All in all, I was in it for the money. Who isn't?

"Clary, trust me when I say that, you, of all people, will enjoy this night." Mother pleaded with me as I continually refused to budge on going to the damn presentation night. I had gotten curled up with a bowl of pasta and a well overdue movie marathon on the couch; did the woman not understand the importance of a Saturday night to any teenager?

"On what belief system do you base that comment on?" I said as I slurped pasta into my mouth, the tomato sauce lingering on my fork.

"Don't make me disconnect the Wi-Fi, Clary. I swear I will." Her tone was stern only when the matter was serious. A possible future without my disgusting close connection to the Internet was frightening, causing me to ditch the lay-in Saturday night plan all together.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 10 minutes." I called as I ran into my room, pulling my fingers through my fiery locks, beginning to plait roughly. After little deliberation and little care on my public appearance, I disembarked from my room in a pair of ripped light blue jeans and a black long sleeve tee, a pair of white converse in hands as I ran out the door and into the already running car. Mother was fiddling with the crappy radio in the old car, trying to find the balance between music and piercing white noise. The buckle of my seat flipped in my hand inhumanly as she finally set off toward the oncoming storm.

The drive itself took about 15 minutes. 15 minutes of track after track of music that generated a sick feeling in myself. Mother was, god knows why, tapping her hand on the steering wheel, bopping to the sound of the thing coming out of the stereo. The fact that she was dancing was embarrassing enough but the fact that the music wasn't even music in the sense of actually being of reasonable quality was the worse part.

"Please no more." I would say as one song ended, queuing the entrance of another.

"It's this or I put on the ABBA Greatest Hits CD." Mother sung as she giggled and danced in her seat, her hair bouncing along with the beat.

"You call that a compromise? I can't bare listening to you murder such wonderful music with just your voice." I sarcastically responded, sticking my tongue out at her for good measure. She threw a quick glance and slapped my forearm. I just laughed as she drove the rest of the way to the school with a frown on her face.

As we turned off the main road, a procession of cars were lined up, leading up to what I could only guess was the school. A few cars in front of us, I noticed a few people bailing out and walking instead. Mother turned to look at me as if I should follow suit. I stared back at her, as if to send the message that I had contracted the inability to walk 500 metres to the school front as my legs were painted on. The traffic persisted for another 5 minutes before we could finally roll forward and into a park near the entrance to the school building.

We had discovered what was holding up the traffic. A group of teenagers were carrying in a bunch of equipment to the presentation night, guitars and amps and so. I don't know what is all was, okay?

"Is it too late to bail out now?" I pleaded, throwing my hands together to ask for forgiveness. Mother raised one eyebrow and just waited. The message was pretty clear, and so, I dragged my lonesome self out of the car and into hell itself.

Upon entering the school, vivid shapes encapsulated the surroundings and mesmerising colours of meaning emotion caught my eye. My limited excitement for this evening had heighten quickly, and somehow I had become eager to spend hours in the beckoning auditorium at a school I barely knew with people I didn't know to witness things that would fail to impress me.

The show began moments after everyone had entered the large hall. I had sat a relative distance from everyone else, toward the back of the seating area and sunk back into the plastic chair, one leg over the over, ready for the night to be over already.

The performances began with a handful of solo compositions as part of the students' finals for the semester. One of the solo in particular caught my attention. A young woman who seemed quite awkward, with ink black hair, walked cautiously to centre stage. She had dared to look up from the ground at the audience and seemed to regret that action immediately. The hall was half to two thirds full of students and their families and other member of the community. Conversation was echoing across the room easily as we waited on something to happen. The girl on stage was disorderly and seemed quite clumsy as she motioned for the adjacent music to her piece. As the first few noted dragged out, the crowd grew silence and focused their attention on the girl.

It was peculiar how this girl had gone from nervous to determined within the first bar of the song. The music ebbed and flowed into the first verse as she began to amaze everyone.

I began to smile, unconsciously, at the choice of music **(A/N:Sweet Dispositon by Temper Trap)** and watched the dancer threw herself along the raised stage, each movement showing raw emotion and thought put into the piece. The dance was entrancing due to its flawless choreography that the indefinite ending had come as a surprise.

The girl went the front of the stage and curtsied gracefully, stirring a roar of appreciation that seemed to erupt from the crowd. I was on my feet, clapping violently, a grin spread along my face. She was by far the best of all of the solos that night. The rest lack the soul that she showed, and frankly, I couldn't be bothered with them.

I was deep in thought about that black haired girls' solo when I had finally come to my senses upon the announcement of next few acts being student bands. They all were cover bands, much to my disappointment. I watched as some stage managers moved on equipment, testing microphones and connecting cables, some complicated shit to be frank. After a few seconds of dead stage, the first of many student bands made their debut.

The band consisted of all average looking teenage boys, some sporting the emo fringe and comb over styled hair. The lead singer, it seemed from his swagger onto stage was a rough but stunning looking blonde, with prominent cheekbones and piercing golden eyes I think. After he had set up his microphone stand, he causally stumbled around the stage, mike in one hand and the other in his jean pocket. A few girls in the audience let out a scream, making Blondie chuckle to himself.

"Hello all. We're the Choking Alibis. And if it wasn't already obvious, The Killer's cover band because we can't anything this good, I guess." He rambled on nervously about crap, must to my distaste, talking comments about bands he despised. This infuriated me incredibly. How could you that uncultured that the mere mention of anything from before you pluck the first guitar string gives you hives?

Somehow, though, he had seemed to won over the affections of everyone other girl in the auditorium with these comments. No snide comment would make me fall to the floor with teenage lust for him, never. If he was smart enough, he would have known just to keep his mouth shut.

Apparently the rest of the band shared my impatience for Blondie's manner as they counted each other into their first song. A steady drum sounded initially, along with the guitars. Synthesizers came into play as the lead singer abruptly ended his stupid speech and began to sing.

A round of applause sounded after the song **(A/N:Somebody Told Me by The Killers)** has finished, pulling me away from my entrancement. I didn't know the Killers that well but this song seemed to be a crowd favourite, signalling the cries of adolescent girls. As much as the lead singer was the basis of the 'man-whore' character, his voice resinated well, causing a stir in me. Eww, Clary, I thought, disgusted by my sudden teenage girl moment. As quickly as the applause began to die out, it ended sharply as the next song eased its was through the hollow hall, ghostly undertones vibrating through the plastic seats it seemed.

Much to my, and all the other people in the audiences' disappointment, the Choking Alibis had finished up their set for the night, beginning to exit off the stage. I somehow over the last two songs had grown interest in the group, wanting and waiting for more sweet music to come my way. Suddenly from behind me, a uproar of people yelling for an encore performance began, travelling like a lit fuse around the room until everyone was on their feet, screaming practically for more. I didn't partake in this peer pressure, remaining seated as the boys ran back on stage and steadied themselves for one final number.

"An encore you say?" The lead singer asked into the microphone, pulling in from the stand to walk up and down the risen stage, swinging the cable in one hand. He was answered back with the demonic roar of the audience. As the guys exchanged whispers between themselves a wild roar broke out from behind me.

"Okay, okay. One more song?" The audience answered with an excitement 'yeah!' "We will need a volunteer to help us with this one." As he uttered those last words, several girls in front of them dramatically fell back into their chairs, suddenly short of breath at the aspect of singing with Blondie. Frantically, he jumped over chairs and ran through rows of chair, making his way up towards the back area where I was residing for the gruelling evening. Hands few forward to try and grab him as he ran past, crying as they begged for his attention.

As if out of the blue, he began to side step his way into the row I sat in, narrowly missing the grabbing girls before he stopped, one hand out in front of me. "Care to join me on stage?" he panted sightly, exhausted from his up the theatre to my seat. I was too embarrassed to say no and too anxious to even think of the prospect of standing up in front of the bright stage lights and singing.

Awkwardly, I accepted his proposal and let him take my hand. I struggled to keep up with him as we both ran down to the stage, to stand central with the band. The stage lights were quite warm on my exposed, a feeling that I began to get use to.

"What's your name, babe?" he posed the question into the microphone, looking me dead in the eye as he put it just in front of my mouth.

"Clary, just Clary." I retorted, disgruntled with him calling me his 'babe'.

"Okay then, Clary" He chuckled. "What song would you like us to perform?"

"I'm not thoroughly education in music but id o know this one song by The Killers, I think. I believe it is called 'Read My Mind', correct me if I'm wrong?" I fumbled my words out of sheer embarrassment of lacking rich music knowledge. Blondie smiled, showing off a chipped incisor, giving a wave to the audience before turning to look back at me. Arrogant bastard.

"Good choice! But you will have to help me sing it, okay babe?" I didn't argue this way when he called me babe as he handed me another microphone and putting me into his body with his gentle hand on my waist. I thrust his hand off me immediately and blushed tomato red. It was scary enough being on stage and performing a song you barely knew to people you didn't know, but the contact made in mortifying. I didn't think of myself as a good singer, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do, I thought as I nodded my head unsurely and waited for the opening bar.

As the auditorium echoed back the first bar of Read My Mind, I began to stiffen up with incredible anxiety. This was really happening, I thought, I was really going to sing. The lead singer glanced over at me, and what felt like I was melting into the stage floor, and whispered that he would sing until my nerves calmed down. I began to loosen up a little before the crash of symbols sounded behind me.

He nodded at me, dropping a sweaty hand down to squeeze my free one. You can do this, I thought as I licked my lips, placing the microphone close to my mouth and sang.

I let out a deep breath and readied myself to continue. The lead singer began to harmonise with me as we made our way through the chorus.

I moved the microphone away from me, giving myself a moment to take a breath then continued. Blondie was being awfully quiet as I sang, and had inched closer.

I exchanged a quick glance beside me at Blondie, he flashed me a sneaky smile before the headed back into the chorus.

A wave of pure ecstasy rushed through my body, sending shivers down my spine. He had nodded at me as if to finish off the song. What was he playing at?

"Are you sure, I mean, you seem to be play the dainty role of lead singer?" I whispered at him. He chuckled sightly before replying with, "You have a beautiful voice, and you should finish it."

I had trouble believing that I had 'a beautiful voice', when I had no training or the like. I inhaled sharply, pursed my lips and let my thought of as beautiful voice resinates throughout the theatre.

As the song faded out, a round of applause burst from the room, filling the space dramatically. I held a hand to my forehead and nearly dropped the sweat-covered mike on the floor. Blondie applauded me too, a grin spreading across his face. After giving a small curtsey, I was subject to extreme bear hug from my singing accomplice. His face was in the thick of my red locks, whispering into my ear.

"You were amazing, Clary." He complimented me, holding me gently. "Meet me backstage after the show, okay?"

I wasn't sure whether it was due the adrenaline coursing its way through my veins or the fact that my undiscovered teenage girl nature made use of my mind, but I was choked up, unable to answer. I clumsily nodded, supressing an unnatural squeal. God, I need to learn to restrain this gross girly shit.

Still caught up in the thrill of the performance, I found it hard to focus on the rest of the acts when I finally made my way back to my seat in the crowd. A few people shout praise at me as I walked past but I couldn't get past that insane feeling I got when I sang. I even had to contain a silly giggle from escaping at the thought of going backstage after the show. Stupid teenage brain.

Half way through the next bands' final number, I felt a buzz from inside my jean pocket. Mum, I guessed, was checking up on me. Typical.

**Hey honey, how is everything going? – M**

I wasn't exactly sure how to word what had just happened to my mother without her throwing a party on her daughter finally escaping from her cocoon of hating the world. I'm serious, she has a banner prepared and everything.

**Don't talk to me, I'm famous now. Speak to my agent if you wish for an appointment thanks. – C**

I smiled as the text had its way to my mother. I honestly couldn't wait until the end of the night, but to be frank, I was thinking the same thing at the start of the night. So, as per usual, pessimist Clary strikes again.

**A/N: Please excuse the awkward breaks, i did have music lyrics in their but took them out as they are against policy. **


	2. Allergic to Human Contact

**A/N: After posting the first chapter, i was a little too excited to stop writing this story, so here is Chapter 2! Due to end of school, year exam next week, i cannot promise an update but i do plan to write a partner story of this from Jaces' POV. What should i call it though? Please let suggestions and reviews and stuff, i love answering stuff! Thanks - C :)**

I almost vomited when the show closed, not because the final act was awful and couldn't hold a melody, but that finally it was time to go backstage and meet the band. My gross teenage girl self was seeming to have the best of me as I walked out of the auditorium, waiting just outside the entrance for some sign.

"Hey, are you that girl that sung on stage?" Someone asked me. I was too out of it to answer, remembering that feeling I got on stage of performing. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Oh god, now I felt like I would vomit everywhere.

"Hello in there! Earth to.. Clary was it?" A slender hand caught my attention as I pressed a hand to my mouth. Conceal it, Clary. Don't let it travelling up your oesophagus and out onto the person in front of you who just happened to be the girl with the inky black hair.

"Yes, sorry." I said, embarrassment an undertone to my nearly sick speech. She smiled at me, letting out a deep breath before answering, "I'm Isabelle."

"Hi, Isabelle. Wait, weren't you the one to perform to Sweet Disposition?" I asked, my love of music speaking for me.

"Yes, do you know the Temper Trap? I thought was the only person in this town who was cultured enough to listen to music from the other side of the world."

"I love the Temper Trap. I work at a little indie back alley music store on the other side of town. I always listen to their stuff when the boss isn't around." I admitted, a little ashamed that my musical interests didn't spread out beyond that.

Before Isabelle and I could continue our conversation of musical interests from around the world, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I would have yelled that I was engaged in an important conversation of urban Australian music and that they were too uncultured to join us if it hadn't have been the one and only lead singer.

"We meet again, Blondie." I said, a little annoyed bout the interruption. He chuckled sightly before replying with, "It seems we do, Clary." Much against the morals of the normal negative self, I was weak at the knees at the thought of him remembering my name. My repressed teenage girl brain was overpowering me, causing me to giggle that his comment and sigh pathetically.

"Would you like to join me and the band backstage?" He asked with no hesitation in his voice. I nodded vigorously and extended a hand to join his. I made an exception for this exchange of human contact that I felt to be disgusting. I mean, his hand was sweaty and gross and stuff but I didn't really care.

"So," he asked as he made our way through the sudden shit storm of screaming teenage girls, trying to grab onto him and calling at him in desperation. Suck it bitches, he's mine. Oh what was that? I thought. I was out of control but I liked it. Hormonal Clary needed to let out of the bag more often.

"So…?" I pondered what he was asking he. I probably didn't want to know. As soon as we finally made it to the backstage door, I shook loose his grip on my hand. 2 minutes of unadulterated human contact was long enough. He looked a little hurt when we parted hands, as if grasping my little hand was enthralling for him. I don't think I will ever understand teenage boys and their obsessions with hands. Like hands are weird and slimy and rough, who would like that?

"I was wondering what you thought of our performance?" I had struggled then and still struggled now to encapsulate my appreciation for their set and the fact it was amazing and wonderful to the highest degree of awesome. I pulled my mouth into a thinking pose and answered truthfully.

"It was incredible, to be frank. I won't bullshit you there." I had forgotten his indulgent speech, preaching his values in musical greatness to the audience, shunning left and right what he hates. That drove me insane and still played on my resent now. "But, keep your dumbass speech to yourself. I'd rather not be brainwashed to pray to the almighty rocks gods of ACDC for one night thanks."

I immediately regretted what I had said as soon as it escaped my unfavourable lips, my honest self was a little too honest and he was taken back by it. He stared me down, a burning anger evident in his eyes. I had pissed him off majorly.

"What?" He spat at me with poison in his voice. He was really pissed off.

"I'm just questioning what gives you the authority to shove your opinions down peoples thought without second guessing yourself?" Stop now, Clary, I thought but I couldn't.

"What makes you think to can speak to me like that?" He growled at me, his hands clenching into fists. All the blood in my body seemed to be flowing to my legs, urging me to take flight rather than fight like I did.

The confrontation between us had gathered a crowd, wearing confused faces. To the left of Blondie, his fellow band mates hung, worry in their eyes.

"Jace, just leave it. Don't lash back." The one with the black emo fringe begged.

"Just leave her, it's not worth it." Another boy with sheet white hair said, trying to pull Jace away from the crowd. Jace ripped his arm off and strode toward me, his chest nearly flush with mine. He stood towering over me, trying to intimidate me with his height but I didn't let that scare me off.

"What make you think that you are so goddamn cultured in music that your word is the only word because it isn't, _Jace_!" I shouted his name is disgust. He was fuming at me, nearly quivering with anger. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't back down but it was becoming scary. He ground his teeth, trying to hold back from lashing out at me. The crowd that swamped us had back again slightly, out of the range of his fury. My father had once told me to never back down to a fight, his famous last words. I planned to live out his advice and stood my ground. I wasn't planning to let down his father today or any day. I am Clary, and I am strong, I thought, I will not let him get the best of me.

On the point of exploding into chunks of attractive blond rage, Jace began to walk away. I smiled victorious, under the belief that this fight was over and I, indeed, was the champion until he turn back to face my direction. Walked with haste in his pace, he latched a hand onto my face, skirting it along my jawline to finally make a rest for my chin. Angling up my face to meet his, he spoke with vulgarity.

"Just because you sung a few words and won over everyone doesn't mean that you are a freaking know it all that should be worshipped. You are just a bitch with no friends that should crawl up in a hole and die." His words were like knives, piercing through my skin with malice. I felt violated. The fact that he was touching me was awful and I had little control as to not bite his hand. I hoped he would get rabies.

Striking away his lingering hand on my chin, I began to walk away. The spiteful part of me said otherwise, going back for a little revenge. I wasn't going to walk away without dealing some pain myself, I thought. Jace was watching me approach him again, a smirk on his ugly face, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. The arrogant bastard.

With an unlady-like swing to my flimsy arm, I slapped his hard on the right side of the face, a powerful blow to say so myself. Blood rushed to slap-ground-zero as he clutched a hand up to his cheek. Served him right, I thought as I finally left the building, holding back the tears that threatened to escape my eyes.

The cool air of the haunting night was sharp on my tear stained face. I had been right, this whole night was a mistake just waiting to happen. I should have listened to my negative self and let my love of Wi-Fi be empowering. The hollow light of the full moon shone down the surroundings grounds, casting heavy shadows. As I went to throw myself to the dirt in defeat, a familiar buzz sounded in my pocket. Mum, I thought, of all the times to ring.

Nearly letting the phone ring out before answering, I laid down on my back, to look toward the stars for guidance or the Doctor, whatever.

"Hey Clary, darling!" Mum nearly screamed through the speaker, I had to move the phone away from my ear for fear of permanent hearing damage. I can imagine a scenario in the future where I'm sitting peacefully in my house, all alone, with a steaming cup of tea in one hand, and the TV remote in the other. I'm about a new TV series on Netflix when someone runs into my house, panicked. I can see their mouth moving but I can't hear them. They are acting hysteric, madly rushing around, gather up a bag of goods before rushing out the door. I would assume that they are insane and in need of burning clothes that they still have from the 80s, such as their unitards, and continue to watch TV. After a while, I get up to grab some snacks and notice flames licking the sides of the house. Smoke billows into the house rapidly, and I throw myself to the floor, trying to escape the engulfing inferno. In the end, I would perish from the bushfire all because my mother took it to be her job to deafen me from a young age. What a great parenting lesson.

"Do you wish for me to be at an early grave?" I say back, trying not to choke on my words. Stupid Jace and his insults.

"What are you talking about? Oh, is this one of your dark humor things again?"

"Welcome to my realm Sherlock. Now, what do you want?" I'm eager to end the conversation and wallow in self-pity.

"I'm just on my way now to pick you up from the performance night." Oh right, the performance night. The performance night that started out bad and ended up being worse. Thanks for the reminder.

"Okay, then." My voice is wavering. "See you soon." I hang up the call before she can say goodbye. Tossing into the open shadows, I rest back and dell over the night.

Mum embarrassed human kind by dancing to pop music, check.

I misunderstood my love for Wi-Fi, check.

I endured countless poorly articulated performances, check.

Isabelle showed an appreciation to The Temper Trap, check.

I sung with a band for the first time in public, check.

I left my girl teenage brain take power over my body, check.

I argued with a douchebag lead singer over our philosophies, check.

I let him get to me, check.

The list itself was awful, re-accounting the events was worse. Before I could reassess my list of dumb mistakes for the night, the sound of running alert me to the presence of another human life form. It was Isabelle, her ink black hair whipping behind her and her dancer legs driving her forward towards my place on the ground.

"Hey, what are you doing out here on your own?" She asked, slightly puffed from her run. How did she have the stamina to dance yet she couldn't run 30 metres in the freezing cold? Her eyes scanned the area around me that for the present time I will call the epicentre of disgusting emotional meltdown. Bending down to reach my phone, she turned the device on, fiddling with it. After what seemed like five millennia, she handed me back the phone. I look at her equivocally.

"I like you. I put my number in your phone. You should put a passcode on that or something or else someone else will discover your secret love for Wi-Fi." Isabelle said, giggling at the end of the sentence.

"It's no secret that I love Wi-Fi. My mother isn't supportive of our relationship though." I couldn't believe how open I was with Isabelle, I mean, we barely meet half an hour ago and she was in cahoots about my undying love for the Internet.

"Who doesn't love Wi-Fi?" Okay, Isabelle is on my level. "Anyway, what troubles you my friend?"

"Just a blond haired asshole that needs to keep his hands and stupid comments to himself." Isabelle smiled a little as I spoke. Obviously she knew I was talking about Jace.

"Jace doesn't know went to shut up does he? I swear, he will never learn ever after I tell him off on a daily basis." She laughs at the end; her whole body is shaking which is hard to see under her thick jacket.

"What! Is Jace your brother or something?" I held back from saying boyfriend, he seemed like the sketchy ladies man that would never land. Isabelle looked me sharp in the eyes, making the moment awkward as she answered. "No, he and my older brother are just really good friends. I hate his guts too."

Before I could respond with a great and surprisingly witty comeback, a flash of blond was heading toward us. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Isabelle, there you are. Alec and I were looking for you. We were so wor- look who we have here! Little Clary from earlier." I bared my teeth at him, eyes glaring too. He laughed of my 'little show' as he called it and told Isabelle to go and speak to her older brother I'm guessing who was called Alec.

'What do you want, asshole?" I snarled, anger oblivious in my tone. I wanted him to go away, to leave me alone. He stood his ground, only to walk closer to me. What was his damage?

"I wanted to apologise for earlier, my friends are always saying that I have a bad temper. Sorry for what I said. I just didn't except a lecture on musical interests from a little girl." He patronizingly patted my hair, probably trying to be a comforting gesture, but this only got me angrier.

"Get you hands off me, you creep. What makes you think I want to speak to you?' I was having none of his fake apology. His words still hurt me deep. I thought my front I was putting on would drive him away but instead he grabbed onto my forearms, gathering them up in his chest, pulling the two of us closer together. The almost contact was awkward and gross. I tried to pull away but his vice-like grip on me didn't allow for escape.

"I just wanted to give you this, my love." Slowly, he bent down, moving his face toward mine. Oh god, he was trying to kiss me. He, Jace, the magnificent bastard, was trying to kiss me, Clary, the 'fiery bitch' as he has put it so eloquently only several minutes ago. I began to pull away, turning my face and closing my eyes so I didn't have to watch what happened next.

With little reserve, his lips locked onto mine. I fought against the feeling on his slimy face in such proximity to mine, and the fact he was taking my first kiss without knowledge or permission or the fact that when he detached himself from me that I would be giving him a gift back in return. A bloody knuckle sandwich.

As I fought against his and I's connection, I had a unknown sensation travel through my body, a growing sense that fighting against the kiss was wrong and that I should embrace, well, the embrace. This was the product of letting teenage hormones and teenage girly brain be free to plot against my own will. The fact that I was pulling away from him seemed to mean to him that I was loving our closeness thoroughly and didn't want to stop this moment as he tried to deepen the kiss, pressing his vile tongue against my unwilling bottom lip.

With the power of ending the disgusting kiss, I pushed the lead singer away from him, making him nearly falling on his ass on the ground. He looked puzzled as I huffed, drawing my hand into fists. One knuckle sandwich ready to be delivered.

"Stay away from me." I growled, turning my back on him, walking toward the road in search of my mothers car. She was bond to be here any minute now.

"Clary, I.." Jace said, nearly choking on his words. I was sick of him now. I turned back to face him. He looked beside himself, unsurely why I didn't like our exchange of unwanted saliva. I remind myself to be sure to rinse my mouth out with bleach or something to save myself from getting an infection due to our vile embrace. As I raised my fist to collide with his perfect face, a beam of light shined behind me, indicating that my mother had finally decided to grace our presence.

While I sulked over to the car, I exchanged an "I'm-watching-you" gesture with Jace, hoping he would back off from me. Hope being the operative word in that sentence, I preferred he left this nebula and never returned.

Mum sped off into the night, still dancing to her less than poor quality music as I stared at the stars, wishing that I was a star, so I was alone in space to listen to decent music and feast on food with someone who got me. I didn't want to go back to that school, to have the possibility that I would see Jace in the corridor and he would try and make another move on me. That would make me vomit.

"How was the night? You seemed to be on top of the world earlier or did I read the message wrong…" Mum quickly grabbed her phone from within the centre console, checking her messages. I swiped the phone from her hand, one of my hands resting on the wheel to steer the nearly speeding vehicle from crash.

"Two hands on the wheel and two eyes on the road, mother. I guess the night was okay but it still sucked." I didn't feel like recalling the story of Jace and Me to my mother. I know she would see that as her daughter socialising and there was bound to be cake she would whip up in celebration. Heaven knows how much icing she would put on it.


	3. Do You Live Under A Rock?

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait between updates! As I said, I had exams the week before and this week was transition into year 12 classes for next year (aka last year of school). As per AWildMadAppears review (Yes, our pennames are similar. Coincidence? maybe :D ), reading this sore with different accents is great. Hopefully there will be more regular updates in the future, meanwhile, enjoy! - C**

The rest of the drive was like a child slamming a triangle peg into the circle slot, endlessly frustrating. In between listening to my mother scarily sing to pop, my phone could have been mistaken for a strode light, with all the times the display blinked bright light of a text message being received. I didn't have to check to know whom it was, I already knew it was Isabelle. She was probably trying to work out why I had slammed Jace after he had kissed me. She admitted to hating his ugly ass too but she knew him better than I did. I could only feel sympathy for the poor child.

As my mother pulled the car nastily into the driveway of our house, I decided that I should look at my phone; the blinking of the display was beginning to annoy me thoroughly.

"You still didn't answer my question, Clary," My mother said, clamping both hands down on the handbrake, slamming to the floor of the car with a puff. "Why did the evening suck?"

"I told you, it was okay at the started but became sucky as I had prophesised earlier. You may now refer to me as Oracle Clary, your personal psychic medium minus the tarot cards." I said in reply, walking from the car into our house. It was quiet with just the two of us. You should have been able to hear a pin drop from other side of the house if it wasn't for the hum of the Internet router.

"Oh my love, my darling Wi-Fi. How I missed you!" I shed a tear as I threw myself onto my bed in my room, homage to teenage angst and disorganisation. Piles of clothes lay scattered across the floor along with many CDs, all in the wrong cases. At the end of my bed was my laptop, humming away, still half way through the first movie of my long awaited marathon. Mother must have braved the bombsite she referred to as my room to place it up here, along with my cold dinner. Quickly taking a shower and changing into my pyjamas, I buried myself in the quilt, going to back to my delicious dinner and movie. Cold scmold, I wasn't impartial to food often, and throwing away cold pasta was just a waste.

As the movie began to reach its climax, I finally checked my phone like I planned to about 2 hours earlier. A bloodcurdling cry sounded in my ear as I opened my inbox full of messages. The first few were from Isabelle, asking me if we could meet up next week or something to shop. I let out a deep sigh. Shopping to me was like bathing in hot magma. I had always hated shopping, even when it was for myself. If I needed to buy some new music, I made sure to be quick and skip on buying food out, in order to reduce the pain that burned my heart from flashing the plastic.

But I couldn't really say no to Isabelle, I mean, she wasn't uncultured. She was amazingly brilliant, and different and definitely best friend material. Not sure if the same level as Simon but getting there. Thinking about it, she and Simon would get along well. The only problem with that fantasy playing out is that we are universes apart in a sense and also I wasn't sure if I could afford the petrol needed to make the one trip there. Curse old cars and the rising cost of socialising.

After agreeing, unfortunately, to go out for a girl's day with Isabelle, I continued to search through the messages to find many from an unknown number.

**Hello there. Is this Clary? – Unknown Number**

**Or is this not? Am I texting a random? – UN**

**Dear random, please answer, I need closure. – UN**

**Clary, please tell me this is you. I'm sure Isabelle gave me the right number – UN**

Oh great, I thought. The asshole lived to annoy me further.

**What makes you think I can even bear speak to you at all after what you have done? – C**

Tossing my phone to the side for a moment, I stared up at the roof, counting the cracks in the paint. I felt a faint buzz next to my leg in the motionless room.

**Clary, please let me apologise. I'm sorry for my actions, my lips can't control themselves. – J**

**I don't want to text some asshole like you, thanks. – C**

Suddenly my phone had begun to ring, seriously this guy had some game calling me. I couldn't be bothered to answer, leaving the phone to ring out as I cleaned up my dinner from earlier. While letting the phone continue to chime, I grabbed a cool glass of water before sitting back down in my bed. There was no chance in heel I would be answering my phone tonight, I thought as I rolled over in my bed, beginning to drift off.

Apparently Jace had no means of giving up on trying to contact me, even if that meant calling me at 2 in the morning, when the rain poured down against the house, streaking my bedroom window. It was dark outside, despite the full moon shining down on us. I couldn't bare listen to the phone ring anymore; the ringtone was driving insane. Note to self to change that tomorrow, well, technically today.

"Clary, Clary? Are you there? Clary, please answer me!" Jace's voice carried down the line, a desperate plea.

"Yes. And note that I still hate you, and that you have woken me up at 2 in the morning, which is not going to help your case." I replied, my tone was extremely angry. I guessed it was probably due to the unsightly transformation I experience during a full moon.

"Clary, please, just hear me out, okay?"

"You have 5 minutes to change the outcome of the history of this evening before I personally send for your murder."

"What happened at the performance night before, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it. Well, no actually, I did mean it when I said that you had a beautiful singing voice. As I said, my friends are aware that I have a short fuse and tried to stop me. I don't mean anything I said then, I was just not myself, I promise you. And the kiss…"

"Please, I had only just finished throwing up over the thought of that."

"I didn't mean to. I was just caught up in the moment and,"

"Caught up in the moment? You were just being an asshole, treating me like I was a little girl that needed some guardian angel to take care of them and love them when no one else would. News flash, I don't need anyone to do anything for me." I was so mad with him. Before he could reply, I hung up the phone, squeezing my hand around it tightly, trying to crush it with my brute strength that didn't exist. Damn my minimal werewolf powers.

The phone began to ring again a second later, vibrating in my fisted hand. I answered it with a huff, wishing he would just leave me alone.

"I understand that my actions were wrong. I was still caught up from your comments earlier about saying it like it is." This guy really had no clue.

"Saying it like it was is what you called your little preshow speech, praising shit music to mindless girls in the hope of musical respect?" Not only was he an idiot, he was committing the biggest crime of being a musician, talking shit about other musicians.

"Okay. So, I was maybe wrong and I probably shouldn't have…" I interrupted him half way through the sentence, fury boiling in my veins.

"No, you were completely wrong. No maybes about it." I snap, about to throw the phone across the room.

"Okay, I was _completely_ and _utterly _out of line becoming a musical preacher to the brainless crowd, and I'm sorry that I can't seem to control my mouth in any context. Clary, please, I'm on my knees there. Please accept my heartfelt apology." As such as I was mad at Jace, he couldn't help but make me smile. I let out a little laugh before replying with, "It seems that your words have the power to make me smile too. Apology accepted, Jace."

"Thanks, babe." He said, a sleaziness tone to his voice.

"Don't call me babe." I retorted back immediately. My eversion to the word 'babe' was clear in my voice. He chuckled through the receiver.

"So, earlier when you said that you liked the performance, prior to slap-down city and such, were you being completely honest?" Jace asked.

"Yes, I was being honest in saying that you and your band are amazing and that performing with you was the opportunity of a lifetime and I couldn't believe myself when I sang that time on stage, that I thought I would hate it but I loved it. I loved the feel of the band supporting me, the crowd egging me on and the light shining down on me." I was a little embarrassed that I vented so much to Jace but I was being truthful. The feel of performing on stage with the band was insane and incredible simultaneously. Holy shit, Clary, shut up. Stop embarrassing yourself.

"Well, its good to know that I'm not the only one, I guess." He paused, sighing a little into the phone. It sounded like a happy sigh. I don't know why he was happy; we were still in the pointless conversation. That's nothing to be happy about.

"Before either of us die from the awkward silence, I was wondering where this conversation was leading to be frank. You have interrupted precious beauty sleep and the chance of a potential TV show marathon happening tomorrow. You can't take me away from my TV, we are a special couple." I was growing more and more weary by the second, nearly at the point of welding my eyes shut and dropping my phone on the hard floor. After last time, I know that's a bad idea. Poor cat, another phone to the back is not a good idea.

"I sorry I have spoiled the potential for you to pursue your date with destiny tomorrow. I can recover it if you invite me over to join you. I'll bring the food."

The guy barely knew he, had insulted he earlier and was trying to be my friend. Good luck with that, I thought.

"As tempting as it sounds, I think I'll have to pass. I mean, you barely even know me! I could be a serial killer or something. Take your pick, it's probably wrong. No one can guess my secrets." Also the fact that I still hated him was the deciding variable in denying him the pleasure of feeding me. No normal amount of money could put food in my stomach. I live a hard life without my needed 3 servings of pasta everyday for dinner. Two will never be enough.

"I don't care what we watch, seriously." Jace pleaded.

"Are you impartial to Daria?" I asked, slightly annoyed that he was pushing it.

"I have never seen Daria, was that some MTV show?" I almost felt bad for the guy. I mean, he was a major asshole but not be educated in 90s television is unjustifiable. I must do my part for the sake of humanity.

"You have not seen Daria?! Have you been living under a rock your whole life?"

"To answer your second question, yes, punk rock. No, I don't really watch any TV at all. It frustrates my friends so much when they make references and I just sit there, blank faced." There was no backing out now.

"I guess you can come over tomorrow, but don't skip out on food. I may not look like it but I can eat a lot. I'll text you my address. You can come over at around 9ish, I should be up."

"9 it is then. See you tomorrow for our date, Babe."

"It's not Babe, its just Clary. This is not a date. This is an important life lesson in culture, nothing more. Now, I have to sleep or else I will turn into Godzilla and terrorise the city with my greenness or something. Good night, Blondie."

"Goodnight Clary, I…" I hung up quickly, eager to pass out on my soft pillow. After sending through my address to Jace, my eyes welded themselves shut and I tried to sleep. It was hard to sleep with the prospect of a dashing blond appearing at your doorstep the next morning, eager to feed the unquenchable hunger. Crap, I was fangirling over Jace. Gross.

**A/N: A quick note, before i forget. Any songs/artists mentioned in this story, such as The Temper Trap and The Killers, are brilliant. You should give them a listen!**


	4. Black Like My Soul

**A/N: Thank you for all the support , it has really been a drive to continue writing this story. I have started a side story to MMC from Jace's POv but i am not sure what to call it. Any suggestions? - C :D**

Punctuality wasn't exactly quality I had pictured in a musician as cocky as Jace. I expected that even though he was eager for his lesson in pop culture that he would by at least half an hour late. Probably begging on the streets for money to pay to feed me.

This rudimental feeling that this day was a day worth celebrating procrastination and teenage laziness lead me to toss and turn in my deceivingly warm bed, debating with myself whether to rise and shine or confine to wallow in my comfort cocoon. After many ill-fated attempts at as my mother would put it, 'waking the dead from eternal slumber', I flung one leg and then the other from under the quilt. Eventually my whole body was out and realising the terrible mistake I had made by getting up.

I had agreed to let the glorious delinquent with the hair of gold into my house to spend a day on the same couch within close proximity to me, on the single love seat in our house, to watch 90s television, and eat beyond be-lief?

Oh shit, what had I signed up for? Why didn't I read the terms and conditions? Where is the undone button, I thought, panic setting in. I fought with myself about calling him and cancelling it all together, but the little kindness in my body that had veins coated in black poison told me that he had probably spent a banks worth of money on food. Denying such an offer of edible goods was a crime in my eyes, making it impossible for me to let my trigger-happy thumb press call and break his disgusting. After all, he had spent money of his won on my food for the day. I wasn't going to complain; free food is the best gift in life.

As the hour drew closer to 9, I threw myself into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and attempting to do something to my dripping hair. I'm sure Rapunzel gets my hair woes. As I was just about to put the rest of my clothes on for the day, I heard a faint knock on the door.

Jace is there, I thought, and he is early? I assessed the room around me. Sitting open on the coffee table was the complete collections of the MTV show 'Daria', the first disc not affixed to the plastic casing. On the kitchen bench, the blasting of music from my phone overpowered the sound of the kettle boiling. I couldn't speak to Jace without at least one cup of tea in me, so help me.

I had been shamelessly dancing and singing along to the music coming from my phone before the knock sounded again on the hard wood door, a hairbrush acting as both my microphone and an instrument of controlling my crimson locks. Unfortunately, I learnt that I couldn't multitask these activities; eventually I began to not care about how my hair dried and instead bounced happily around the room.

I could hear another knock on the door, a pattern emerging from it that I wasn't quite familiar with. Noticing the fact that while the house was ready for Jace to enter, I was not, my body clad in just my underwear. I could imagine his reaction to my appearance. I would open the door, unaware of the fact that I was indecent and in need of more layers of cotton, blushing heavily. He would look at me, open his mouth to talk, but then his eyes would direct him toward my failure to dress. He then would blush like a tomato but still to make a move on me, rewarding him with an express delivered knuckle sandwich to the jaw and the door in his face. Or at least scenarios like that.

Knocking once more, I was only just able to hear Jace say, "Clary, hello? Are you home? Or is this the wrong house?", over the music.

Putting the security chain lock on my door before opening it to prevent the awkward scenario I had just imagined from becoming truth, I eased the door open, shielding my half naked body behind it. I was meet with the toothy grin of Goldie.

"Hello there," I said, my half dry hair falling over my shoulder and into Jace's view. He smiled, probably judging my inability to ready myself for the public eye.

"Hey." He replied casually. "I was beginning to think that you were ignoring me, weren't home or this isn't your house for a second there. May I come in?" He asked with softness to his already horrible voice. Putting one of his hands up to the door, attempting to push it open, I had spied the other hand was occupied with two large and full green bags of beautiful food. At least he had met his part of the deal.

"I've just got to quickly finish getting ready for the day, should only take a minute or so but you can come it and stuff. Give me a sec, taking the security chain off the door."

"What do you think I am? Some serial killer?" He shook with laughter.

"If the prophecy foretold, then please spare the machete. It's my favourite." I spit back, the dark humour of the joke becoming too much for me. People need to learn that what's theirs is also mine, but what's mine is mine only. Unless its broken or whatnot, then it is theirs. Quickly, I shut the door in his face, disengaged my security chain I liked to call, 'final chance', and ran for the hills. In my attempt to vanish into my room without embarrassing myself for the day on revealing my lack of clothing, I landed myself a stitch and the faint sound of the front door closing completely.

Unsure but not really caring as per usual on what others thought of me and the clothes I wear that day and any other day, I choose to wear a light pair of denim short with laced details and a buttoned charcoal long sleeve top. I left my hair down, instead of pulling it up like I usually do, mostly because I couldn't be bothered conforming to societal values and to put on a front to Jace and his glorious delivery of food to my stomach.

Checking to make sure that the house had not burnt to a crisp in the last few minutes and saving myself from suing Jace for being an ass, I ran eagerly down the stairs that connected the upstairs landing to the living room and kitchen area. I spied Jace on my way down, in a rich-coloured, figure-hugging shirt and some dark, tight jeans, still carrying the heavy food bags in his hand while he took in every aspect of my house. He knew that this would be the one and only time here, so savour it, I guess?

"Here," I said, holding my arms out for the bags, planning whether I should share or not. Jace had snapped his head my way, surprised. His gold hair was a messy mop, his hand combing through it to try and reshape it unsuccessfully. As he did this, he chuckled a little, looking me up and down, and turning bright red.

"Uhmm…" Jace said, curling his lips slightly toward the inside of his mouth. His eyes flashed at me, as if to indicate something. He shone like a traffic light in the meantime.

"What's wrong now? Am I not up to scratch or something? Have I not impressed you or something?" Cocking a hip out, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, the materials of my top below quivering alongside my fury.

"Your… uhm… your top is…" He mumbled his words, turning away from my piercing gaze, to look at the ceiling.

That was the exact point in time and space, the point where I had realised my mistake, and embarrassed myself thoroughly. I had forgotten to button up the top, leaving my milky skin covering my collarbone and my outlandish bra on display. Don't ask why the bra is vibrant, it was cheap and I am a frugal person when it comes to shopping, all right?

Quickly and forcefully, I fastened the open buttons on my top, hiding my skin and began to yell at Jace.

"I wasn't sure if you had forgotten or meant to leave it like that or…." Jace tried to defend himself but I wasn't taking any of it.

"You think I had meant to leave it like that? That I had an epiphany or something telling me to expose myself to you, to discard my dignity and let it go? Do you honestly believe that my intention today was to ignite the slut-fire within myself and nurse it? Do you?"

"No! No, not at all. I don't believe you are a slut. I could never believe that. I just wasn't sure myself how to approach the situation without seemingly like a typical male. I was trying to be a gentleman." Jace let out a heavily breath, seemingly like he was fighting with himself.

"You were trying to part the role of a gentleman, and trying oh so hard to not fall back into the typical male category? I find that hard to believe." There was no way I was letting Jace get away with admiring my body in such an objectifying way. I was not a woman to be objectified, and would not let anyone else feel the same way.

"I promise you Clary, I was. I had noticed that your top was open, and immediately tried to alert you to the fact…"

"Is that what you're trying to justify the staring as? An warning of unwanted cleavage being displayed in your peripheral vision." I snapped back, a flame of anger building in my body. I was so ready to kick him out.

"Would you have wanted me to say 'Hey, your boobs are hanging out!' or something, because I can be an asshole if you want." He retorted, anger in his tone. Apparently I had engaged bitchy-Jace mode successfully. 10 points for Gryffindor for working out how to push Jace's buttons, I thought. Oh wait, that sounded weird. Never mind.

"Correction, you are already an asshole. I don't need you to pinpoint my inability to dress for the public eye to be able to label you as one. Is there any other gentlemanly behaviour that you failed to display in my eyes?"

"Well, I had realised that you didn't get the initial message of mine so I tried to ignore it. I wasn't trying to objectify you if that's what you are thinking. I was trying to…"

"Trying to what exactly? You seem to be devoid of words. Is this a first for you ever?" His lack of explaining himself was getting on my last nerve. Spit it out, Jace, or I'll strangle you for it.

"Trying to not let my body get wind of what I was seeing, okay?" Oh my god, too much information. Why did I push the matter? I thought, my face beginning to resemble a fire truck. Embarrassed by the choice of topic, I dropped the matter, placing the food bags on the counter top of the kitchen and fixing myself a cup of tea.

"Uh, would you like a cup of tea or something?" It was beyond awkward trying to talk to each other, let alone be in the same room. Jace uneasily nodded, walking over to the counter to join me. Even after confessing his resistance from allowing himself to 'get excited' by my mistake in dressing, he still persisted in following me like a bad smell.

"Yes, thanks." He said, flashing his signature smile. I was about to ask whether he would like arsenic in his tea when he said, "Black, please. Like my soul."

You never know, maybe I could begin to like Jace. He got dark humour, that's a plus.

After making our boiling cups of tea, in novelty mugs because I was too cheap to buy real teacups and saucers, and also because I wasn't dainty enough either, I rummaged through the snacks Jace had brought with him for something that was edible. I didn't know whether Jace had a concept of purchasing food for a lesson in pop culture at the time, I just hoped that he didn't skip out on the chocolate.

Upon inspecting his purchases, I was thoroughly impressed. Not only had he actually bought enough food to feed us (meaning my many stomachs exclusively) for the day, he had also bought some of my favourites. Eager to begin the feast, I dished out the food into share platters and placed in on the coffee table. Jace had somehow worked out how to use my TV without trouble, setting my 'stalker' and 'nerd' alarms off, and had readied the first disc of 'Daria' for viewing. Thank god, I thought, as my body reminded me of the joys of becoming one with the couch.

Struggling to reach forward and press play on the TV remote, Jace had plopped himself down precariously next to me on the loveseat. Not that any love was being felt in that moment, at least not by me. In Jace had some lingering feelings about me, I was sure to have destroyed them in due time. I had made it my life mission to be a pain in the ass, and I planned to carry that mission out still.

After the first disc had ended and I had gotten up to play the next, Jace was smiling to himself. It certainly wasn't for me I had let myself believe.

"I get you now." Jace said, sweeping a hand through his hair and chuckling a little. The bastard thought that he got me? In his dreams!

"No you don't." I retorted, hate burning on my tongue.

"No, I do. You are like Daria Morgendorffer. You are cynical, anti-social and in no way wanting to fit to the values of society. The least you could do is be original instead of copying her character completely." He said, turning to look at me, an arm propped between his head and the head of the chair.

"Your impression of me compared to Daria Morgendorffer may be accurate to some degree," I said, pausing when Jace laughed. I had let him win, such a rookie mistake. "but I ensure you that I am my own character completely and not just a brain-dead clone."

He looked me dead in the eyes, raised one eyebrow before saying, "Prove it."

After countless revisits to this memory, I had always wondered what was going on in my head at that time to compel me to act the way I did. Was I under the influence of drugs? I guess I was if you counted sugar as the means of warping your mental state. The countless mouthfuls of chocolate and lollies had taken their toll on me I guessed, and also the fact that we had been sitting so close together. Goosebumps had appeared on my arm after only moments of us both trying to fit comfortably on the couch, squirming around until we had meet in the middle, the full length of my arm and leg brushed up against his. Mind you, he was most definitely leaning into me, trying to close the gap between us from the start of the day.

Even after the awkward conversation involving two of the defining differences between the structure of male and female anatomy, we had still manage to get along a little. In exchange for my recollection of how many times I remembered moving to different towns in my life, Jace told me about his childhood. He recalled the times he had spent alone before he meet Alec, and of his weird fetish of observing hay fever sufferers. And I thought I was a weird kid. We discussed our interests as children, how we both were bookworms. I was more of a fantasy reader while Jace had classics at his hands. He could quote TS Elliot like it was a second language, which I found intriguing and nerdy.

"When I was a young boy," He told me, looking at the TV rather than my judging stare. "my father took me into the city to many old bookstores. We could both spend hours there, the smell and the feel of the classics was incredible. Before I had meet Alec though, my father had become ill. He spent most of his time in his study, and we didn't go to the city much. After he became the infamous recluse, I abandoned my passion for literature, not because I had run out of books to read and enjoy but because I missed the connection my father and I had made because of it. That was the year I meet Alec and he introduced me to music." He paused, breathing heavily. I smiled a little at the My Chemical Romance reference, displaying his incredible memory of words from anything strongly.

"I think it was one afternoon, after a long day of school, that he first invited me over. On the way home, he asked me what type of music I liked, and I admitted the fact that I never really listened to music and had no knowledge of it. He made it his mission to provide me a taste of music, good music not just pop music. He lent me CDs every week to listen to, and help build my interests. We started off with some classics, and surely lend up to the band that shaped my musical passion majorly: The Killers. I don't know whether it was because the name seemed controversial in my eyes, or what, but I just got them." He smiled then continued.

"After listening to their first album, I asked Alec to teach me how to play guitar and the like. I already knew how to play piano; it was a passion of my father's for me to become a pianist when I grew up. Surely by surely, I had learnt all my chords and some riffs, and I was truly addicted. That night, Alec and I were having a jam session and I had said, 'Let's start a band.' Alec had looked at me like I was crazy, note we were 12 at the time, and had no idea why I would want such a thing. I simply had replied with 'Because we can.' So, that next day, Alec rounded up a few friends and thus The Choking Alibis was born." If we are going to be honest, I was incredible jealous of Jace's musical talent. All I knew how to play on a piano was Frère Jacques at least it was suppose to sound like that. God damn him and his musical talent.

Jace was still waiting on me to prove to him that I was not just a poorly made clone of Daria Morgendorffer, and that I was something better and unique. I didn't really care what he thought or if I was not being original, all I knew is that whenever people say I'm something, that's what I'm not. So, to prove that I am just Clary, I looked deep into his eyes. As my legs pulled up to sit under my body, my hands lent themselves to caress his face, along the prominent cheekbones and jaw line, soft across the little stumble that he had on his chin, golden. My thumb traced the space between his eyebrows, down the slop of his nose and lightly on top of his lips, smooth. My face bent down to his, my hands holding his head still as I lower himself to his level. His eyes drew closed and he puckered his lips, like a teenage girl. I, too had closed my eyes and was blindly guiding my lips toward his, trying to narrowly miss failing miserably and head butting the couch. But it seemed after that day, there was nothing else I could do to embarrass myself more.

As our faces we're just an inch apart, I felt the warmth of his breath on my mouth, smelling of tea and chocolate. I giggled to myself, shifting my face to whisper into his ear, "Psyche" before letting out a big, from-the-stomach laugh. He opened his eyes, looking at me with disappointment. This only made me laugh more.

"Is this enough proof for you?" I asked, pulling myself away from his body and off the couch.

"No, but a kiss will do." He said, chasing me around the room.

"In your dreams, buddy. The day I voluntarily kiss you will be the day that pigs fly, so sit tight and enjoy the ride." I teased, pushing him away from me as he towered over me, trying to snake his hands around my body and take my proof of originally by force.

"You touch me like that again," I snapped, trying to remove him from me with all my might. "And you will getting more than the lowered chance of fertility, my friend."

"Oh, so we are friends now?" He asked, a twinkle in his eye. Apparently he also knew how to push my buttons.

"How you like to meet my fists? This one is Justice, and the other is League. You can if you don't shut up. I'm positive they would like to meet your face."

"You are positive? The Clary, the most cynical person I know, is positive. Somebody throw a party!"

"Don't worry, my mother already has one planned. You should see the decorations and cake she made."


	5. S-L-S-O-C-D

**A/N: Thanks once again for all of your support! I've had so many ideas for this story and finally now we are getting somewhere. Hope you enjoy this chapter! :) - C**

It's hard sometimes to admit the fact that sometimes we make brash and rushed decisions that we know are wrong and selfish. We feel that being truthful about our mistakes makes us weak and that's not true. I don't regret much, but I know that my regrets do weigh me down heavily. Like in one hand I hold a bunch of helium balloons, and in the other a bunch of led balloons, currently cancelling out one another in number. That's not to say that the effects of both bunches of balloons have equal effect on myself, but the same in amount. Some highs are bigger than others much as some lows are bigger than others. Those bigger ones are more crucial than others as those are ones we remember the most, such as a birthday or a failed relationship. As damaging and hurtful those big lows are, we must revisit them in order to look back and improve ourselves today from the sake of ourselves and others to prevent upsetting the balance too much, even with the big highs as well. Balance is there for a reason, sure, but sometimes it's okay to break that balance.

"For the last time Jace, get out of my house. Your presence is not wanted anymore, and you didn't buy enough food, so you are evicted." I said, trying to push Jace out the door. He instead was becoming deadweight under my arms.

"Clary, it's not my fault you have a stomach that resembles a bottomless pit and I have no money. Think of all the music I could have bought instead of giving you a feast. Think of the CDs, Clary." He argued, guilt-tripping me. The bastard should have known I was not having any of this.

"Don't you dare bring music into this! I'm sure that music isn't that expensive to buy, I don't pay that much for it at least." The fact that I worked at a music store gave me the typical staff discount, but that also meant I had to try and keep up with new release music, and that bothered me slightly.

"Why not? Are you apart of some secret club who strive for the collection of music at exclusive rates that the public aren't allowed to know about? Is this some sort of music-illuminati or something?"

"No, it's just that I work as this dank little music store in town. It's down an alley, hard to miss." It's like I just handed a stalker my address without hesitation. Great job, Clary. Nice going. "Oh great, why did I tell you that? If you put one foot in the store, so help me I will…" This seemingly empty threat only made Jace smile.

"Don't worry. I plan to put both in." Jace replied, taking his time to walk out of the house before turning back to face me and say, "Do I get some discount for shopping there? A friends and family discount?"

He chuckled to himself as I slam the door in his face. Close enough to half a day with the blond haired asshole was bad enough, but the sense that he would never leave me alone for the rest of my life? That was truly scary.

Turning back around to face the living room and kitchen, all I saw was the remnants of the day. The two novelty mugs we had our first drinks of tea together in, the chair we sat together on as we watch TV and resighted monologues on our childhood, and the empty containers that once held the food we consumed together on our first date.

Back it up a sec, I thought, realising the fact that I was putting a romantic element to our day. There was nothing romantic about consuming hot drinks together, watching mind-melting TV or nosily eating food together, let alone with the not-seeming romantic character of Jace. I wasn't the one either for romance or cliché love stories where girl meets guy, girl and guy do not get along well, something happens that forces the two to like one another, they fall in love and its all a big happy ending. You could say that the majority of Disney films made me sick. You wouldn't be completely wrong. I mean, the soundtracks are pretty flawless. You could even say that my musical taste ranges for grunge and alternative to theatre and soundtracks.

Escaping away from thoughts to focus at the matter at hand, I grabbed hold of my idle phone and blasted music once again, filling the house with sassy bass and euphoric energy. As I sung along to the song **(A/N: Under The Gun by The Killers )**, a slightly squished small bouquet of flowers lay in the bottom of the green bags Jace had failed to take with him. Probably on purpose. Maybe as a method of being able to see me again without the awkwardness. Cheeky little shit. Instead of favouring the extreme colour and odour of the flowers, admiring the structure and composition of the petals in juxtaposition to the stem rest of the flowers individually, I opted for disposing of them.

Unlike many other girls of my age, who find a gift of flowers from anyone as a romantic gesture or a conveyance of love, not specifically romantic or the like, I seem no correlation between the gift of hay fever and a heart warming message of admiration. Maybe I was beginning to understand Jace's obsession as a young boy into the workings of those prone to reaction to nature and all its vileness.

Seriously, I thought to myself. You can't go without think of him for five minutes! I assessed the symptoms present and came to the conclusion that I had an extreme case of Stunning-Lead-Singer-Obsessive-Compulsive-Disorder. Sufferers of this horrible illness, such as myself unfortunately, slowly develop an unhealthy addiction to a stunning lead singer in a band **(A/N: Take for example, Brendon Urie from Panic! At the Disco)**, from thinking about them on occasion when they do something like listen to their music to becoming mentally unstable to the point where you only know them. Nothing else but that lead singer. And Jace seemed to be the apple to the eye of my contraction of the illness. Shit.

Sitting as per usual in the dark room of the store, on the brink of falling asleep all the time in a pool of his own filth, my boss looked at me, higher than a kite on a windy day.

"Clary, isn't that a weird name? Cl-a-ry," He sounded out, using his fingers to count out the syllables I hoped. To be honest, I had no idea what was going on that man's brain, all I know is that he regularly overpays me, so I'm not complaining.

"Cl-a-ry, can you, like, take care of the store until close or something? I'm not feeling up to doing it tonight. Something tells me that my stars are the wrong way. I'll fix them and you take care of the store?" I had no chose but to stay and work the rest of the day, in the music shop. I guess it could be worse though. I could be in Pompeii and trying to escape the wrath of Mt. Vesuvius, or in the 14th century Edinburgh, living in a sonky 13 storey building with the Black Dead eating at my soul. Or I could be forced to associate with Jace again. That is a much worse fate, I thought at the time. My psychic medium powers seemed to have the better of me though, I had discovered later in the day.

In the main room of the store, the vinyls were sitting in clear plastic tubs on a table in the middle of the room. Everyday, I had to alphabetise them because the hipsters that made a habit of showing up in the store in search of an unknown or obscure band liked to reorder the collection we had. Typically, they would sort it into year and then their own preference. Sometimes it was cheapest to most expensive, and once it was even by the names that sounded most crude. That was the least amusing to resort.

To the left of the Vinyl table, along the wall ran to long stand of CDs, sorted in genre and alphabetised. The speciality of the store was indie and alternative music, which was my main reason to apply for work here. Played over the loud speaker most often were the newest releases from these genres, filing the store with a gentle and relaxing feel. It was truly my nirvana.

To the right of the Vinyls and taking up more than half the store was the instruments, merchandise and bric-a-brac part of our store. That month, we were luck to have a selection of electric keyboards available to purchase, as well as a baby grand, the one-in-a-blue-moon item that this dump of a store was bound to never see again. It was pristine, the finishing's ornate and the sound was out of this world. I could marry this piano, and anymore who could play it so beautifully.

That's when everything went to hell.

As I was rearranging the merchandise stand, piling the t-shirts in size order and setting the prices, I beared witness to the sound of the baby grand in swing once again. Fingers glided over the keys, moving up and down octaves to hear its beauty. I was about to melt into a puddle on the floor, it was that good. I should probably learn to control myself when I'm in public, I thought. It's probably strange to melt into the ground like The Wicked Witch of The West over just a piano. But I just remembered that I don't care what society thinks of me. I'll melt wherever I like, thank you.

Soon after the mysterious player had assessed the sound of the piano, they began to play a song **(A/N: Sam's Town (Live from Abbey Road w/ piano only) by the Killers :3)**. I wasn't completely sure what it was, but it sounded beautifully. And then they began to sing and my epiphany could not have come any later.

The golden asshole, Jace, himself have decided to stalk me and try to serenade me over playing the piano. Why must I fall for beautifully music? He surely enough was singing along as he played. I refused to turn around and let him be acknowledge, so I continued to tidy up the merchandise stand. As much as Jace probably thought that by visiting me at work and trying to win my heart over with what I thought was his cover of a song by the Killers at the time would land him some sort of romantic interaction, he was wrong. There was no way that this was romantic to me. These were the actions of a stalker. Following me everywhere, making me want him when I hate his face entirely was definitely playing the stalker card, if you ask me.

When I had finished cleaning up the store, I found it hard not to turn to look at Jace and the baby grand piano, admire the sound of it and let the music take me. Screw it, I thought, there's nothing else to do.

That was one of worst ideas in my life.

Turning to face Jace, I noticed his hands gliding over the keys, on top of one another. He leaned into each chord, the music pulling him down towards the keys. His face was focused, his lips stuck under the strain of his teeth and his hair, a shaggy mop of locks that obscured my view of his golden eyes. Without my knowing, I had moved slowly toward him, now only a few steps from sitting beside him on the piano bench. As he moved his hands up the piano, he looked up to see me, staring at him with bewilderment.

"Sit next to me." He said, breaking from song to ask for me to let him feel my body against his again like the other day when we watched Daria religiously. I hated that. I didn't want to feel him against me ever again.

"Do you want to be able to walk?" I threatened, venom in my voice.

"At least stand next to me, please?" He pleaded, a longing look in his piercing eyes, begging like a sad little puppy. Puppy eyes did nothing to me, so I stood my ground.

"No thanks, I don't want to get a disease." I already seemed to have symptoms of Stunning-Lead-Singer-Obsessive-Compulsive-Disorder, which was bad enough honestly.

"Trust me, you won't." he smiled his signature smile at me, trying so hard to reel me in and make me partake in his fantasy. Reluctantly, I sat down on the stool, still keeping my distance. I sat down not because I feel the overwhelming notion of his charm taking away my inability to think and act independently due to state of teenage girl brain, but because I was wearing stupid shoes to go to work and actually work in. My feet had gone from strong Hobbit feet to the durability of a bubble within the span of only 3 hours. Curse my mother and her evil plot to make me dress like a typical girl. In my discomfort of sitting next to Jace and watching him play the piano, I recalled that I needed to give him back his green bags, and the flowers that I was burning progressively.

"Jace, uhm…" I said, not sure how to tell him that I would only be inviting him over to my house just to take his shit and leave again, not to stay and act like we are friends or something.

Abruptly, he took his hands away from the piano, stopping part way through the song. Instead, he reached out and took hold my hands, curling his musical fingers into my palms.

"What is it, Clary?" He asked, excitement in his tone. Great, I thought, this was like letting down a child.

"Would you like to come over to my house?" I asked back, and his eyes seemed to gleam. "I mean, I have been meaning to give you back your green bags from the other day. You left them at mine, and I wasn't sure when I would see you again, so I don't have them with me right now." He lowered his face, looking down at our hands and finally let go of me. Reminder to wash my hands in a pool of sanitiser before I leave work.

"Oh, okay, I guess." He sounded disappointed, probably hoping that our day together meant to we could hang out together and be friends. With me, there was a slim chance of that ever happening.

"I finish in half an hour, if you'd like to hang around, or whatever." I offered, sparking happiness in his face once again. Not again with the puppy eyes, Jace.

For the next half an hour, Jace was like a lingering smell, following me around, only inch of air between us. Before leaving, Jace picked me out all the albums by The Killers, requesting that I spend the time between our inevitable next meetings to educate myself in their 'wise words' as he put it. But, since Jace drove here and I didn't, that educational pursuit started early. Unwilling sitting shotgun in his half-decent car, Jace took action with the CDS he begrudgingly bought for me, playing _Hot Fuss_ which he told me was their debut album. From the start of _Jenny Was a Friend Of Mine_ to the finishing note of _Everything Will Be Alright_, my love for The Killers had blossomed and grown spectacularly, with Jace and I discussing our favourite songs and him beautifully singing along with the CD as it flooded the car.

"Jace, why didn't you introduce me to this concoction of musical genius earlier?" I laughed, dancing along with the music as he drove closer and closer to my house, bobbing his head with the beat.

"Clary, Clary, Clary…" He chuckled at me, thrusting a hand out to grab mine and planting a kiss on it. This time only I let him get away with it, let him touch me without rewarding him with the inability to reproduce in the future. I let myself, much against my morals and my philosophies, enjoy the kiss, enjoy the feeling of his soft lips caressing my knuckles, his hot breath tickling the thin skin that stretched over my bones in my hand, savouring the lingering feeling that he left. I let myself enjoy his company without discomfort or unwillingness, just because he was there and I am too. Maybe I was beginning to like Jace. No, Clary, just no.

Finally, we had made it to my house, crawling slowly into the driveway, parking next to my mother's car with ease. Jace grabbed the CD from the car, putting it back into the case before handing over all the CDs to me.

"I really can't take this, Jace. This is too much…" I said, trying to refuse the CDs from landing in my hands, avoiding taking his gift to me. It wasn't because I didn't want it, it was more because I didn't need him to treat me. I was independent enough to buy my own things and treat myself, and didn't really want others to waste their time or money on me when I would just reject them and fall back into being my usual, pessimistic self.

"Clary, if you don't take these now, I will never leave you alone about this, okay?" The scarce thought of having Jace follow me 24/7, thrusting the CDs out in front of him toward me, after his ghosting earlier, was likely to be one of the worst things to happen in my life. So, uneasily, I took the CDs from Jace's vice grip, and we walked over to the front door of the house.

After trying and failing multiple times to unlocked the front door of the house due to my poor misjudgement of how a key works in a typical lock for a house door, it took quite a while to get inside and apparently I had forgotten about the state of the house before I left to go to work earlier. The kitchen and living room was in shambles, full of dishes that needed to be packed away, all of my art supplies and the complete box set of the TV show Friends. My current sketchbook, because too often I would use half of one sketchbook then abandon it for another, was laying open on a page that I had just completed this morning, the collection of graphite pencils used resting on to of the illustration. It was as if Jace could heard my thoughts that day, as immediately I acknowledge my sketchbook, his golden eyes were draw to it, pulling his body towards it.

As I put my CDs up into my room in a pile next to my laptop, I could hear the laugh of Jace from downstairs.

"Clary, is this suppose to be me?" He laughed once more. Oh shit, I panicked, throwing myself out of my bedroom and down the stairs to see him and his smirking face. In one hand, he displayed in the illustration to me. I had turning a pleasant shade of red by this point, beyond embarrassed, that while I had acted cold and distant to Jace, he still seemed to wade around in my subconscious, causing unnatural effects of me and prompting this unwanted illustration to appear before us.

"Don't be embarrassed, Clary." He tried to reassure me. Like hell that would help. "This is really good. I didn't know you were such a good artist."

"That's because I'm not." I said. It was fact that the only talented artist in my family was my mother. I was the hermit one in the family instead, which I thoroughly enjoyed being.

"Well, I think you are." He had move toward me rapidly, pressing his lips to my ear to whisper. "You just need to stop doubting yourself, Clary. You are incredible, and you don't seem to see it."

"Maybe because I don't want to." I said, moving away from Jace to collect the bags in one hand. He looked down my hands, then at my angry face, taking the bags from me then trying to hold onto me, the cool of his skin against the heat of my fury.

As we turned our backs to each other, the awkward exchange before shadowing the stunted conversation from resurfacing, I heard the opening of the front door, a light breeze hitting my back and the long sigh of Jace.

"You know, you look really pretty today." He said, still paused at the door when I eventually turned to face him. If pretty to him was the action of me being dressed by my mother, forced to wear a plaid skirt with a collared shirt underneath a tight fitting grey jumper and a pair of black heels coupled with black tights, then I guess I was pretty. I sure didn't feel pretty.

"Uhm… thanks, Jace." I let through a smile and I spoke, taking him compliment to heart. As I turned back around to begin to sort the nightmare that had unfolded on the living room integrity, Jace finally went to leave. With the pencils sorted back into their rightful positions in my tin case, Jace spoke once again.

"Clary, I need to ask you something." He said, sounding nervous.

"Yes, Jace?"

**A/N: Cue evil laugh :D**


	6. Slyther-in?

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, that's all. - C :D (also excuse any mistakes, typed this on the new iPad that I suck at using.)**

**Chapter 6**

The time that lapsed between Jace asking me the question of upmost importance and my slightly uncaring response felt as if it had spaned over (billions) of years. The question was the aftermath of the Big bang, developing our universe as we seem to know it slowly, and my answer was the resilience of the cockroach after the downfall of the Dinosaurs.

The question itself was perplexing to say the least.

On one hand, I was being to develop a dysfunctional friendship with Jace. That was not because he was a sleazy asshole, but because I was a closed off bitch to everyone and I planned to utilise that title in the future. On the other hand, that friendship contained unapproachable feelings that I didn't want to explore. The kiss that other night was horrible and disgusting, yet it still lingers, and had meaning to me. The nearly kiss and the connection between us on the TV day was intimate and felt like I was pulling the bill but it still felt right in some messed up way. And then, the gesture before with my knuckles, that was fine. Help me, I thought, realising the association of enjoyment between the embraces developing over time and letting panic set in, I'm feeling. **(A/N: The Grinch and I are one being exclusively.)**

But how could I stop myself from feeling? That should have already stopped due to the fact that I was made of steel, and my heart lacked the capacity be a heart, rather it simply pushed the dark-humour laced black sludge around my body, fuelling my hatred for societal values and my comfortableness at being a loner. Also because I wanted to watch TV all day and express my limited feelings on that too, that was primarily the reason for my Boo-Radley like exclusion to the outside world. Even with coupling these elements together, I still was able to feel this warm of my body when Jace was around or the blush in my face when he said something funny or I said something embarrassing to him.

Maybe it's love, my subconscious tried to express just as I furiously shoved it away. No, it can't be love. I still hated him. I hated his smile, his eyes when they meet mine, his cocky attitude, the way he played with his hair. I hated the way he stood out from the crowd, the way he followed me around like a stray puppy. I mostly hated the fact that I couldn't thing of 10 things I hated about Jace that in the end I didn't hate about him, because subconsciously I couldn't. Without these attributes, he wouldn't be Jace, he would just be a prat.

He wouldn't be the guy you love, my subconscious butted in. I nastily pushed away the thought, not wishing for it to be to any bit true in the slight. How could I love him? He seemed a dick when I first meet him, acted like a dick after awhile of interacting then decided to continue that behaviour, like he was asking for a restraining order. Don't worry, I'm not afraid to acquire one. 100 metres would be okay but another planet would be ideal. As long as he can keep his hands to himself from that far of a distance. Who knows?

"Clary…uhm," He mumbled and struggled to speak, nervous to ask me the one question to rule them all. Was the question too mighty for this world, this context? Was the question earth shattering, bound to tear a hole in the space-time continuum upon hearing it? Was it the question I dreaded?

"Yes, what is it?" I was beginning to become impatience. If this was some movie cliché where the drama is dragged to build unhealthy amounts of suspense in the audience, to then fail them with a lack of originality and second-grade acting, then I didn't want any of it.

Jace threw a hand up into his golden locks, untangling some knots and brushing down to touch his prominent cheek bones that formed the plains of his face, framing the piercing yellow eyes in respect to his button nose and soft baby lips that I wasn't sure why I would be fanaticising about them. I mean, I in no way felt any sort of romantic feelings towards Jace, no way at all.

"Clary, uhm..." He said, the golden quiff of his mane beginning to obscure his face from view. Carefully, he said with speed, "Would-you-sing-for-my-band?"

"What?" This was all my brain had allowed me to say. At least it wasn't the question that surely would lead to my sudden death; rather this was one of near death, a fate I could live with.

"Will you join my band and sing along with me? I wasn't lying that night when I said you could sing and I really think that you fit our image. Please, Clary?" He pleaded, getting down on his knees, hands together above his body, coupled also with the unfair puppy eyes. Damnit, this was like saying no to a child.

"Is there any other way than I can keep our interactions to a minimum? Seriously, you are only a matter of surprise visits away from no chances of fertility in the future." I hoped for an escape from this situation. I could only boycott to such a degree.

"Nope." He smiled, saying the letter 'p' with a pop. Where is the silver lining, universe? Where is it? Is this karma? Is this because I'm heartless? If so, my future is not going to be any better. Ain't no one going to change my attitude, not even karma.

"Fine, I suppose." His little smile seemed to grow to the size of the Grinch's famous grin. I knew I couldn't avoid him and his golden mop for the rest of my life. But now at least remove the element of surprise from that nasty cocktail of awful. "I have a few rules though."

"Let me guess, no band sex?" He said, with the glint in his eyes diminishing.

"Band sex is definitely off the table."

"Damnit, Clary. Why must you hurt the band?" He joked, beginning to pace around the room with one of his hands infused with his hair. It was like there was this unhealthy magnetic attraction between his hair and his hands, I swear.

"Sorry, It's just that I don't need to know what you boys spend your free time doing, and I sure as hell don't want to be apart of it." I said, a wave of warning creeping out of my mouth as I spoke.

"I assure you, its nothing like what you think it is." Jace continued, making the moment even more awkward. Oh god, this was too much information for me, I thought, trying to rid my mind of the dirty images that it seemed to form.

"Thanks for the nightmares. I really needed it." I snapped, my brain continuing to show me unwanted scenarios involving Jace and company.

"Don't worry. If they get too bad, you can cuddle up with me for comfort." He said, rocking on the heels of his feet, seeming pleased with himself. That dirty bastard. I made a disgusted face back at Jace, channelling my repulsive nature toward him. The idea of Jace and I, in a dark room together, was traumatising. I could imagine it clearly as if it had just happened.

The full moon created a haunting spotlight for me as I shivered in the cold. My body was shaking after countless nightmares, unable to catch a wink of sleep for days on end. A chilly breeze kissed my face, sending its frosty love to the blood in my veins, freezing from the inside out. I would arrive promptly at Jace's front door, hearing the long howl of a stray dog a few blocks over. A mist was gathering around the house, protecting it from the world. It felt like a sanctuary. My hand would collide with the door, the echo of the timber travelling down the house to reach Jace's naked ear.

He would rise from a dead slumber, vision blurred and head clouded, raise one hand to caress his matted hair that went all different directions but down flat. Adorned in only a tight tee and pyjama shorts, he would walk heavy footed down a hall, perhaps a landing with stairs included, to the front door to meet me. Spying through the tinted glass in the peephole, Jace would jump back a bit, probably in shook, to see me distorted by the fish eye lens.

A small lock of fire whipped in front of my face, lacing itself to the skin of my nose. A layer of frost felt like it was clinging to the lining of my overcoat, the hood hanging down low, nearly obscuring my round face and emerald eyes completely. My pupils dilated as soon as the door swung open, reacting to the sight before me. Still groggy from waking up in the middle of night, Jace looks down at me, eyes heavy with sleep. I would dramatically, and definitely not like me at all, lerch forward, collapsing into his arms. He would asked me what is wrong, leading me back into the warmth of the house. My thick coat would have slid off my small frame, displaying my little clothing I would mysteriously be wearing. Thin materials hold my bones in position, allowing them to slide and lock with each other as we walked closely together into the hearth of his empty room.

Kicking off my glistening boots and thick woollen jumper into a pile on the timber floor, Jace pulled back the covers on his large bed, attentively guiding me to continue a peaceful slumber. Although my body is tired and my eyes are blind, I sense a change. The shifting of weight to the bed, the strain of the mattress springs and the heat of another body close to my warming one. A breath of mint and lemon tinkles my exposed skin, and strong arms encircle around my bundled body, trying to relax me. I would, subconsciously, snuggled my head into the nook between his head and shoulder while my arms would lightly reach toward his chest. A small dusting of kisses on my forehead would appear along with messages of good sleep and love from his lips, drawing both of us into a deep state of comfort.

Of course, the likelihood of this ever happening was impossible. Don't expect it, okay?

Another date that seemed to be looming for quite some time but in retrospective was probably only a few days had arrived abruptly. That day, unfortunately, was the first official day of The Choking Alibis band practice that would feature their newest and most reluctant member, yours truly.

Unsure of what a band practice with a bunch of guys I didn't really know and the one guy that I didn't want to be near entailed, I made myself up to channel my inner closed-off self, as referred to as my usual self. A black pair of leather pants and a white peplum top mixture of a outfit, coupled with my 'punk' piercings and black painted leather boots, was my plan for this long-winded day.

Jace had message me the night before multiple times before successfully calling me, telling me that he would be at my house early the next day, sparking the hate fire in my heart and putting me in a bad mood for at least the few hours prior to his arrival. Why had I agreed in the end? I thought. I mean, history tells me that within a time parameter of at least a year the moving trucks would be picking up our stuff and transporting it halfway across the country, maybe 18 months just to be sure. Heaven forbid 2 years, oh save me now.

As I remised over the nostalgic smell of a permanent marker against the surface of a cardboard box, the faint sound of a car horn sung from outside. With both earphones connected to my body at all times, I had desensitised my ears to the point of listening out over the booming bass of the current playing song, easily helping me with my quick dash to throw stuff into my handbag and run out the door.

"Goodbye, sweetie." My mother had called behind me, a small cup of green tea affixed to her frail hands. "It's good to see that you've already made friends. Just remember the rules of having guys for friends. If he pressures you to have se-"

"Let me stop you right here." I shouted back, my hand rested on the front door, picking at the dodgy paint job. "This guy that you think is a friend, is not a friend. He is a annoyance that I can't get rid of. Also, do you not realise the fact that you are trying to negotiate your well-minded daughter of out having non-existing and unwanted sexual relationships with guys that she doesn't know and probably doesn't like? I definitely want to be a mother at 17, don't worry."

"Oh teenage pregnancy, it's a mothers dream." She answered back my sarcastic remark. Sometimes mothers got it, I suppose, just not very often. "I get to name the first one."

"Hell no, you'll call it something dainty like Petal."

"You can't say that's not any better than Lucy, short for Lucille."

"It's not short for Lucille, it's short for Lucifer. Get your facts right." This was fact, to be penned into historical documents. My first daughter would be called Lucy, short for Lucifer. All the other kids would be so freaky jealous of her, I laughed to myself as I walked out the door.

I was unattractively greeted by a grin. A grin that couldn't solve world hunger or save children from contracting malaria in Africa. No, in fact this grin was the most evil grin that had ever brandished a face in this planet. It was more evil than the grin of a dictator in power, or of a serial killer torturing their victim. This grin could only belong to the glowing asshole himself.

"I see you are ready to embark on an adventure. What's with all the-?" Jace asked, tilting his head to side slightly, lowering his whole body to meet me face to face, rather than face to chest. My face to his chest, not the other way around. Just to clarify, but I'm sure he would have loved it the other way.

"No, I am a Hobbit, we don't go many places. And also, yes, I'm wearing black, like my soul." I said, giving him a little wink as I side stepped him. He flashed me a genuine smile as we made our way to the car, still running and the muffle sound of The Killers playing present. His amusement with me quoting him was evident as we buckled ourselves into what you could say was a rolling cage of death, a sparkle twinged in his eyes, the molten gold of his iris looked lighter than normal.

"Well, my young Hobbit. Are you ready to go yet? We don't have all day." The impromptu roar that came with Jace shifting out of park into a gradually accelerating neutral threw my body back into the leather upholstered seat. For the first time in my life, I was in fear of Jace.

"Your young Hobbit? I'm no younger than you, as much as it may seem."

"Oh, so you are the ripe age of 18? It's so old, just saying it sparks arthritis in my heavy bones." Jace joked, quickly jumping lanes of traffic to reach the turning lane. My hand has glued itself to the passenger door handle and both feet were slammed into the floor of the vehicle, pumping my imaginary brake with great force.

"No, but-"

"Sorry, what was that? I was wrong to disrespect my elders, did you say?" He sharply looked my way in between checking the mirrors of the car. He suddenly drove through more traffic and sped through a roundabout, throwing caution to the wind p.

"Even in an alternative universe, where cats are our overlords, you would still never be an elder to me. Besides, I'll be 18 in a few weeks, so there's not much of a age difference between us." I snapped, frustrated with Jace's dominance over me already. I mean, he was taller than me, more talented than I was, can't I at least have something back on him? I had better hair than him? No, he was still winning in that battle. Maybe I could employ Sweeney Todd and fix that problem up.

"A few weeks you say?" He said quietly, thinking deeply and not to my liking at all.

"Don't you dare get any ideas! I hate my birthday, it's true. So no gifts, nothing."

"Not even a-"

"No! Nothing please, otherwise I will sacrifice it to a fiery death." The idea that each year of your life needs to celebrated, to remind yourself that soon enough it will be the end, and your corpse will be wasting away from centuries in mud had always seemed a little stupid to me. I mean, I know that life is a gift, and that crap, but what the point of counting that time down happily? No one is really that excited to be closer to death, closer to a eternity six feet under. It's so mundane giving praise to that bullshit, hence my distaste in birthdays.

"Okay, whatever. No presents, I get it." Jace gave in to my stubbornness. Another 10 points for Gryffindor.

"Highly unlikely." There was no chance in hell that any mere mortal would be able to wrap their minds around my being and understand me at all, or was that my ego talking?

"No, I do. You find it unnecessary to highlight the fact that one year has passed in your insignificant life, and that life is anything but a gift, it's an ongoing torture that our parents grant us, knowing full well that we will have to deal with their deaths eventually our own. The gift of life is a selfish enterprise for people to engage in, with no happy endings, just death." Sometimes in the days I knew Jace, I had questioned whether he had some telepathy powers or was just really good at reading faces, because honestly, he was on point a lot of the time.

I failed to respond, a bit flabbergasted. Shit, he did get it. Maybe I wasn't as remote and as having an individual and unique opinion like I thought I did. Perhaps Jace is a cynical like me. Oh god, I was like Jace. No, I can't let that be.

"I'm just gonna go there and say I'm right." Jace asked, turning off into a large housing estate, full of upper-class houses. Yep I was definitely out of my league. Still, no response escaped my lips.

"10 points for Gryffindor."

"Slytherin you mean, you mere muggle." If he was a Gryffindor, then I was a saint.

"Why don't you let me Slyther-in?" Oh geez, what a pervert, I thought, disgusted by the poorly chosen Harry Potter joke, but good timing to make it I guess. I did set it up for him a little.

After we had bickered more than an old married couple, the Lightwood estate had come into view, with its neat garden and black front gates, swirling shapes of metal accompanied by an extensive driveway. Not only were these people rich, they were Richie-Rich rich. In the centre of the large plot of land, with a matching fountain spurting out water in all directions in front of it, stood a mansion of a house, Victorian era with unique gothic stylings and timeless class. Oh god, Clary, your architecture boner is showing.

"This is?" I was just beyond the point of conceiving words. Jace laughed at me for my inability to express my love for this glorious dream house.

"Yes, this is Alec and Isabelle's parents house, the Lightwoods." He seemed to say that as if he had resighted it a million times over, to engrave it into his little brain. At the mention of Isabelle Lightwood, my cynical view of this day and all the awkwardness that would spark seems to diminish slightly. Despite having to work with the intolerable Jace and in close proximity to a bunch of guys I didn't even know, the fact that I had somewhat of a friend was reassuring.

"Hey, are you alive over there?" Jace had bumped my arm slightly pulling me back unwelcomely into the present moment, and tried to coax me out of his car. "It's time to meet everyone and play some sweet tunes."

"Oh, joy. What a lovely day we are going to have." I was dishing out heavy sarcasm with every syllable. In between the stage of Jace asking me politely to get out of the car and him dragging my unwilling body across the ground, I exited the car, taking a few things into the house together including Jace's guitar case and my handbag before we set foot what felt like the nirvana of vintage homes.

While the outside of the house was authentic and original, the inside was modern and had a classic feel. Somethings felt a little outdated and odd but it had such great character as a whole. The timber floor in juxtaposition to the monochromatic furniture and installations were inspiring and bold. The high ceilings made the whole of the house feel huge, like we had been shrunk down to the size of mice. Jace however didn't seem to be in awe of the house at all, not even battering an eyelash before heading off deeper into the building, as if he knew it like the back of his hand, until we reached the music room. Adjoining a studio fitted with a mixing desk and all you would need to record an album or two, the music room was more closed off than the rest of the house. The walls were aligned with soundproofing, confining us. Off the music room and studio was a lounging area and a storage room with all the instruments you could ever want. Racks of guitars hung in one part of the room, while the individual sets of drums sat in shelves above it. It was like a candy store for musicians.

"Guys, this is Clary. Clary, meet Alec, he plays bass and does some backing vocals." Jace said to me, one hand resting in my shoulder and the other curved around my body to point indicate who was who. Alec gave me a small smile, fiddling with his dark hair.

"These two are Jonathon and Sebastian," he said, the two boys with sheet white hair staring to me. Then they both grabbed my hands and kissed them, charismatically. "Jonathon is our drummer, while Sebastian plays synths and vocals for us."

"Last but not least, I'm sure you already know her, is Isabelle." A glint of dark hair catch my eye, pulling me in for a hug. Okay, this band thing just became a whole lot better. "She's joining us after Alec's boyfriend, Magnus, left the band to go off and travel or whatever. She will be be playing keyboard for us, and a little guitar as well."

Then, all of a sudden, they began to sing. It had seen a little weird at the time, and somewhat rehearsed but I loved it none the less. I couldn't not love anything that was The Killers.

"Welcome to the Choking Alibis, Miss Clary." Sebastian said with me, in a gentlemanly manner and then together they sung, "We hope you enjoy your stay. It's good to have you with us, even if it's just for the day."


End file.
